For the past few days I have day dreamed about lazy walks across the Ponte Vecchio bridge in Florence... and I have tried desperately to return to the quiet in my heart that I got to enjoy while sitting in St. Peter's Basilica. What's interesting about my craving of Italy is that when I recall what I loved most about my European Adventure 2009 I always think of the Passport Fiasco in Disney, and most especially Santorini... perhaps because Italy was organic, and complicated that I seemed to pass over it and would shoot for the simplicity of the 'Island Life'.
However, in Italy I had an intoxicating love affair with time. There was a quiet there that allowed my mind to wander and drift with each through each crack and crease of my heart that I don't often have the time to explore. It was a lot like I found the secret key that I'd been searching for forever to open up parts of my heart that I had been searching for. In many ways I came home from Europe this summer, more complete and settled in myself then I've been in the past couple of years. I have been thankful that what I learned about myself and the Lord did not remain in the glorious Tuscan countryside, or even on the Mediterranean. When I came home I floundered in the adjustment, and I often took my mood or panic on those that are easiest. One of the harder parts about that was in the midst of my outbursts in July, I knew, I knew that somehow I needed to stop and and pull it together. Thankfully after the adjustment to jetlag, summer, and general culture shock I was able to talk in my own voice again. And yet, in the deepest part of my heart I knew still what needed to be changed at home that was brought to light while away. I have been in that battle for the past few months, trying to capture what I miss. What I think I might miss later... what I most deeply want to connect too again. There lives this notion of a craving.
I was detached and removed from life in a productive way while abroad. I wasn't overly connected to home or people that I love. I was able to balance the journey at hand with the knowledge that I was able, independent, beautiful, quiet, and a daughter of Christ. It was intimate. It was lovely.
In the falling leaves I am beginning to see the outlines of the mountains and the bare ground that have been covered by the foliage in the spring and summer. I struggle in winter, and every time "A Long December" comes on shuffle (which is almost every day these days), I tend to think, that yes though it is not yet December the notion of what comes with winter already seems long. Arduous. At times lonely. I recently heard for the first time "Winter Song" by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson. They pose the question in it, "is love alive?" If I could have written myself a song this summer in the midst of the most wonderful and changing adventure I think it would be this one. In it I hear the Lord assuring me on the journey, I hear Him calling me back... and I think that in the midst of the change and pursuit of future right now, I long to know that what I learned this summer is still true. That I can still be quiet. That I can still hear. That I can still find the truth in words spoken by a perfect stranger, "Lei e Bello" (you are beautiful). That the moon looks the same in my sky here, as it does there. That sometimes when every last promise has been spoken and every controlled fear buried... that love is alive.
I crave Italy. I crave its smell. Its people. Its landscape. I crave to remember what it was like to be alone but not feel lonely. I crave to return to the perfect part of my summer... before Matt went into the Hospital, before Tex applied for a job, before I decided not to move to Cincinnati and to just wait. This summer there were 5 weeks filled with laughter, tears, quiet stillness, and divine intimacy with the Savior. Love was alive. Today I sit quietly on the couch and am imagining what the sun must be looking like as it sets out of view. I can only see the golden light it casts on the hills and trees out my window. Gracie has been close all day but now she plays outside, digging through the leaves that overpopulate my front yard. In the quiet, I remember standing on a bridge in Florence crowded with tourists and locals alike waiting for the sun to say goodnight. I am still. I am thankful there. I am telling myself that the moment will go too soon, and at some point in the future I will wish for nothing more then to return.
The moment has come. Today I plan fantastical adventures that require a leap of faith and a passport. I want to chase and I want to run after parts of me that I miss that lived there. And yet, a song plays in the background in my house that reminds me that this summer, I knew that this fall would be challenging. I did not yet know how or why, but I knew that things were shifting and I needed to be ready.
I have questioned what "being ready" really means, especially in light of Tex moving to Oregon. I often said that I wasn't, and didn't think it was possible. Today, in the hope for what was learned and for the peace in what was felt during 35 days solo in Europe, I know in fact that I was ready. It was time. My hurt lives in what is next, what this looks like, and how there are moments of sadness and insecurity that leaves me asking mostly to myself, "is love alive?"
Me. The Lord whispers quietly from then who grew into Me now... "Kari... this is my winter song to you, the storm is coming soon, it rolls in from the sea... my voice; a beacon in the night, my words will be your light to carry you to me."
My heart responds simply...
"Jesus, I may crave Italy... but my hunger is for You.
And your love is alive. I love and thank you."
-k
This is my winter song to you.
The storm is coming soon,
it rolls in from the sea.
My voice; a beacon in the night.
My words will be your light,
to carry you to me.
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
is love
They say that things just cannon grow
beneath the winter snow
or so I have been told.
They say we're buried far,
just like a distant star
I simply cannot hold.
Is love alive?
This is my winter song.
December never felt so wrong,
cause you're not where you belong;
inside my arms.
I wonder then, is love alive?
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